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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25160035">Strike a Match</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings'>extasiswings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>wildfire [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Different Fire Stations AU, Eddie Diaz is a Good Soft Boy, Eventual Smut, First Meetings, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Eddie Diaz, Wildfires, mlm/wlw solidarity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:08:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25160035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eddie Diaz from the 136 agrees to join one of the LAFD strike teams to provide wildfire assistance, he’s thinking about two things—overtime and hazard pay. The last thing he expects is Evan Buckley.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christopher Diaz &amp; Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Lena Bosko &amp; Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>wildfire [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>883</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25116091">lead me to the light</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings">extasiswings</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I originally created this AU to write a teeny tiny prompt fill on tumblr (it can also be found at chapter 14 of my prompt collection <em>lead me to the light</em>) which was meant to be a standalone.  And then I was...bullied?...enabled?...let's go with shamelessly enabled into expanding it to a full fic. I am having a blast so far, I will say that.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Evan Buckley’s second year with the 118 does not start off on an especially great foot.  First, his girlfriend goes to Ireland and leaves him.  Then, there’s some random new guy named Jake who joins their team—none of them expect him to make it through his rookie year.  And, then, oh, right, Chimney gets picked for the firefighter calendar.</p>
<p>Now, Buck recognizes that Chim’s an attractive guy, it’s cool, he’s not mad about it.  But he does forget until the calendars actually arrive.  And then, well—</p>
<p>“Who the hell is that?”</p>
<p>—then, Buck isn’t really thinking about Chim.  Because he flips randomly to July and about chokes on his tongue at the man who is shirtless under red, white, and blue suspenders, tanned muscles glistening in the light as he stares into the camera with dark eyes and what Buck can only think of as sex hair.  Buck’s pretty sure he forgets how to breathe.</p>
<p>Chim looks over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Oh!  Eddie Diaz—new rookie over with the 136.  Great guy actually—really nice, maybe a little shy. I think they were hazing him a bit to get him to send in his pictures because he didn’t think he was going to get picked.”</p>
<p>Shy? Buck looks back at the picture and feels his face flame.  </p>
<p>“Well, he hid it well.”  </p>
<p>“Yeah, that turned out really great,” Chim says approvingly, nodding once before walking away.</p>
<p>It makes no sense—Buck hasn’t had such a visceral reaction to a picture since he was a damn teenager—but he doesn’t stop thinking about it.  Eddie Diaz, Station 136, Mr. July.  There’s no real explanation, Buck just feels somehow, strangely, like it’s supposed to happen.  Like he’s supposed to meet this person.  And it’s not even that Buck finds him attractive, it’s just—</p>
<p>—it’s a feeling. </p>
<p>It doesn’t help that everyone seems to have stories about him.  Apparently Eddie and Chim have texted ever since the photo shoot.  Hen meets him once at some sort of volunteer planning meeting that he goes to when one of his teammates on the committee gets sick.  Buck thinks that he’s finally going to get a chance at the Firefighter’s Ball, but when he casually asks about Eddie at the table for the 136, everyone exchanges looks and gets quiet.  Finally, Lena Bosko clears her throat.</p>
<p>“Uh, there was a death in the family.  He wasn’t really up for…all this.”  </p>
<p>“Oh.”  Buck swallows back his discomfort, the anxiety of feeling like he’s put his foot in it.  “I’m sorry to hear that.”</p>
<p>“We’re looking out,” Lena replies.  “We’re like a family ourselves, I know you get that—we’ve got his back.”</p>
<p>Buck nods.  “Yeah.  Yeah, of course.”</p>
<p>Three weeks later, a bomb goes off and Buck finds himself crushed under a ladder truck.  </p>
<p>After that, he really doesn’t think about Eddie Diaz much—well, he does initially during the month of July, every time he looks at the calendar, but he finally takes it off the wall after a bad day of PT, shoves it into a drawer, and then he doesn’t think about it anymore.  He has enough to think about as it is.  Everything is difficult, nothing goes right—his leg hurts, PT fucking sucks, he can’t get around his apartment easily, and the day before he’s going to take his recertification test he ends up back in the hospital after some standard scans show a massive blood clot forming on one of the screws in his leg.  </p>
<p>“You’re lucky we caught it,” his doctor says after scheduling a procedure to remove the clot and restore circulation to the area.  “If it had broken off it could have traveled to your lungs, heart, brain—might have killed you.”</p>
<p>And Buck gets that, he does, but he’s done so much work and he feels fine otherwise and he just wants to know—</p>
<p>“So, what’s the recovery time on this?” He asks.  “When can I reschedule my test?”</p>
<p>He knows he’s not going to like the answer when Maddie’s lips go thin and the doctor looks at her instead of him.</p>
<p>“Mr. Buckley…”</p>
<p>Buck looks between the two of them.  “No, come on—I can reschedule it, right?  This is just—it’s one little setback—”</p>
<p>“It’s a serious complication,” the doctor corrects gently.  “And since it seems like it was caused by the screws…I’d recommend that you continue taking it easy and sticking with your physical therapy routine until we can remove them.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“Evan.”  Maddie’s voice snaps sharp, controlled, upset and he winces.  They’ve had the same argument so many times over the past few months—Maddie being concerned about him pushing himself too hard, Buck insisting that he’s fine and just needs to get back to work—</p>
<p>He hates that maybe she was right.  </p>
<p>“Maddie, it’s not—I—”</p>
<p>“Buck, I swear to god,” she interrupts.  “Are you hearing this?  Are you getting it?  You could have <em>died</em>.  No one is saying that you can’t take your test, no one is saying you can’t be a firefighter again—you can, you will, we all want to help you do that—but you need to let yourself recover.  You’re on medical leave—your job will be there when you get back.”</p>
<p>Buck rubs his hands over his face, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat as his eyes prick with hot tears.  He knows—logically, he knows everything that she’s saying is right, that he doesn’t have to push so hard, that everything will be there when he’s fully healed—but he can’t help the insecurity whispering in the back of his mind that it won’t be the same, that everyone will move on, forget about him.  And that he’s—</p>
<p>—that he’s nothing without the uniform.  He hasn’t felt useful, hasn’t felt like himself, for the past several months.  He just wants to feel settled again.</p>
<p>Maddie reaches over and takes his hands, her voice gentling.</p>
<p>“I love you,” she says quietly.  “I just want to see you safe and healthy, okay?  So please—can you please just slow down?  For me?”  </p>
<p>Buck squeezes his eyes shut and exhales shakily before squeezing her hands in response.</p>
<p>“Okay,” he agrees finally.  “Okay.  I’ll slow down.”</p>
<p>And he does.  He slows down, listens to his doctor, stops pushing so hard.  It nearly kills him to do it, but at least he’s still able to work towards something.  He’s still in it, hasn’t made anything worse.</p>
<p>Buck’s home the day of the tsunami, out of the way, safe.  He spends the whole day refreshing news sites, aching with the desire to be with his team, to be out there, to be useful.  It stings that he isn’t.  But.  He’s…recovering.</p>
<p>A few weeks later he’s at Bobby and Athena’s for dinner when—</p>
<p>“And then Diaz and Bosko—”</p>
<p>—Bobby throws him off completely.     </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Oh, “ Bobby says, “the 136 got hit pretty badly during the tsunami.  They’re going through some restructuring and since we’re down two with you out and Jake gone, Eddie Diaz and Lena Bosko are filling in for a bit.”</p>
<p>It’s…strange.  Buck hasn’t thought of that name in months and yet—if he was back with the team right now, he might be working alongside him.  Funny how things work out.  Or how they don’t.  </p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“It’s just temporary, Buck,” Bobby assures.  “We’re all looking forward to having you back with us.”</p>
<p>Buck swallows and nods once.  “Yeah.  Yeah, me too.”</p>
<p>“It’s funny though—I tried to get Diaz when he first joined the department. You could have been coworkers.”</p>
<p>Yeah.  Funny.  </p>
<p>Buck gets the screws taken out of his leg just before Halloween.  He passes his recertification.  He goes back to work.  Everything returns to normal.</p>
<p>He still doesn’t meet Eddie Diaz.  </p>
<p>Until he does.</p><hr/>
<p>Eddie Diaz has a hell of a first year in Los Angeles.   </p>
<p>He walks into the station for the 136 on his first day, fresh out of the academy and he’s…nervous.  It’s funny because when he dropped Christopher off at school on his first day, he told him not to worry, assured him that of course he would make friends, have a good time if he didn’t worry so much.</p>
<p>It’s not advice that he seems able to take himself. </p>
<p>“Hey. New guy.”  A woman walks into the locker room as he’s pulling on his uniform shirt.  She looks him up and down, smirking a little bit, and Eddie flushes under the attention.  </p>
<p>“Lena Bosko,” she says finally, holding out a hand.  “Welcome to the 136.”</p>
<p>“Eddie.  Eddie Diaz.”</p>
<p>A slow grin splits her mouth, her eyes sparking with mischief as she gives him another onceover and says— “Do you know about the hot firefighter calendar?  It’s for charity.  We all do it every year.”</p>
<p>And that’s how Eddie ends up wildly embarrassed, posing oiled up and shirtless against a fire truck with a hose for a calendar that absolutely no one in his family is ever allowed to see while his entire team watches and Lena wolf-whistles from the sidelines.</p>
<p>“We all do it every year?”  Eddie quotes drily afterwards, his face still very much on fire.  </p>
<p>Lena grins.  “Technically not a lie—we did all submit something.  Not my fault you happened to get picked.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh.”</p>
<p>She bumps his shoulder with hers.  “Chin up, rookie—if you got it, flaunt it, right?  Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”       </p>
<p>Lena Bosko…becomes his best friend.  Eddie’s not really sure how—he’s never been very good at making friends, being social isn’t something that comes easily to him—but she seems to decide that she’s going to be his friend and then just does it.  And Eddie is…really fucking grateful for her actually.  </p>
<p>Two months in and his abuela ends up in the hospital and Eddie finally admits that he’s been struggling with adequate childcare, with making sure that Christopher has everything he needs and is properly looked after when he’s at work.  He spends the whole conversation staring at the steering wheel of his truck while Lena watches him from the passenger seat.</p>
<p>“You know,” she says when he finally gets everything off his chest, “Cap has a nephew with special needs.  Pretty sure he might have some ideas about how to work some bureaucratic magic.”</p>
<p>Eddie rubs at his eyes and clears his throat.  “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  I’ll ask him.”  Lena reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.  “You know, Eddie…I get that you’ve been doing the whole single dad thing for a while and as far as I can tell you’re really damn good at it, but a team like this?  We’re a family.  We’re not gonna judge you for needing help and we’re gonna to be happy to give it.  We’ve all been there, okay?”</p>
<p>Eddie looks over and sees the sincerity in her eyes—he doesn’t manage to find the words to respond directly, more than a little overwhelmed, but he squeezes her hand in return.  She smiles.</p>
<p>“We’ve got your back, rookie.  Don’t you worry.”</p>
<p>And they do.  The whole team ends up helping him with research, scholarship applications, insurance waivers—everything under the sun.  He finds an amazing woman named Carla who he’s able to take on as a home care nurse for Christopher, finds the perfect school, the only problem is—</p>
<p>“When can we meet Mrs. Diaz?”</p>
<p>—well.  Shannon.</p>
<p>Eddie doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, how he’s supposed to feel about Shannon.  She comes back and kisses him in a parking lot and it’s the first time he’s heard her voice in years let alone seen her.  And he’s—confused is putting it lightly.  They fall into bed once, twice, three times—too many to count.  And they don’t talk.  </p>
<p>He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.</p>
<p>“Okay.  Do you want my honest opinion, or do you want me to be quiet and support you in what I’m pretty sure you’ve already decided to do?”  Lena asks when he spills the whole story just before Christmas.</p>
<p>Eddie raises an eyebrow and looks away from watching Christopher in line to see Santa.  </p>
<p>“What have I already decided to do?  Because I’m pretty sure we’re talking about this because I <em>haven’t</em> decided to do anything.”</p>
<p>Lena shakes her head.  “No.  All that you said about how you left first and you don’t feel like you can really blame her and kids need two parents or whatever?  Tells me you’ve pretty much already settled on being with her again if it’s what Christopher wants without thinking about yourself at all.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s stomach twists and he looks back to Christopher, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the fountain as he waves.  </p>
<p>“Isn’t that what I should do?”</p>
<p>Lena sighs.  “Eddie…okay, seriously?  Honestly?  Because if it’s gonna fuck up our friendship, I’ll keep it to myself.”</p>
<p>“Honestly.  I want to hear it.” </p>
<p>“Honestly…Eddie, she left you.  And more than that, she left her kid.  For <em>years</em> with no word, no contact—”</p>
<p>“I left—”</p>
<p>“You know, we could argue about that, but I’m not prepared to go head-to-head with your Catholic guilt tonight, so can I just finish, please?”  Lena interrupts before he can complete the thought.  He shuts his mouth.  “Thank you.”</p>
<p>She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees.  “She left,” she continues.  “And I’m not Christopher’s parent, so the only person who can decide whether that’s forgivable enough to let her back into his life is you.  But for yourself?  Eddie…anyone else, literally <em>anyone</em> else I know would have filed for divorce years ago.”   </p>
<p>Eddie rubs at the back of his neck and wets his lips.  “It’s not—it’s not that simple.  We had problems.  And a lot of them were my fault.  And I—I wasn’t going to be that guy who knocked up his high school sweetheart and put a ring on her finger only to pull the plug when things got hard.  I still—I still don’t want to be that guy.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Lena replies.  “But.  She left.  Marriages have problems, but you can’t fix them when someone walks out and cuts off all communication.  And I know that you want to do the right thing, but it’s 2018, not 1950.  The two of you don’t have to be married to parent that beautiful kid, and frankly, if you’re just staying out of obligation and aren’t actually happy?  That’s not going to be good for him either.”</p>
<p>Eddie swallows.  “I can be happy.  I think—I was once, I can be again.  I have to believe that.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t know how to talk about the rest—about the fact that filing for divorce involves custody determinations, about the petrifying, icy fear that steals his breath when he even considers it, considers the risk of potentially losing Christopher.  His parents are constantly in his head, the words they said before he left El Paso, about how he’s dragging Christopher down, how he’s not good enough.  </p>
<p>He doesn’t know.  So…he doesn’t. </p>
<p>Thankfully, Christopher finishes with Santa and an elf helps him down the walkway back to the two of them.  Lena hums.  </p>
<p>“If that’s really what you want, I’ll support you,” she says quietly.  “But if it isn’t…you know I’ll be the first person to have your back.”</p>
<p>“I know.”  Eddie manages a small smile and she knocks into his shoulder and smiles back.  </p>
<p>“Hey, kiddo,” she greets, leaning down to Christopher’s level when he reaches them.  “You ready for some hot chocolate?” </p>
<p>“Yeah!”  Christopher agrees, and Eddie’s smile turns into something far more real.</p>
<p>In the end, Lena’s right—he does what he’s already settled on.  Trying to make it work.  The co-parenting, the marriage—all of it.  Fears aside, he took vows.  He doesn’t get to just end it.  </p>
<p>The irony is, Shannon doesn’t have the same hangups.  </p>
<p>“I want a divorce,” she says, and Eddie feels like he’s been steamrolled.  </p>
<p>And then, the next day, before he even gets a chance to process any of it, he’s in an ambulance, then a hospital room, then a morgue.  Then, she’s really gone, and he doesn’t—he can’t—</p>
<p>“You were right,” he says one night a few days after the funeral when his abuela has agreed to take Christopher for the night so he can have a few hours to work through some of his messy and complicated grief.  He’s stretched out on the ground in Lena’s backyard, staring blankly up at the stars without really seeing them.  He’s lost track of how much he’s had to drink, but his head is swimming pleasantly and he’s vaguely aware of Lena sitting up next to him.  </p>
<p>“I usually am,” she acknowledges.  “But about what specifically this time?”</p>
<p>Eddie waves a hand absently.  “Shannon didn’t want me.  She asked for a divorce right before—and she said she didn’t want to have to leave Christopher again, but said it like that was still an option for her, like the first time things actually got difficult she would be gone again and I just—you were right.  I was so stupid.”</p>
<p>“You weren’t stupid,” she sighs.  “Stupidly noble maybe.  But look, I—it was easy for me to sit on the outside and form an opinion.  You were the one who had to live it and make the ultimate decision and you weren’t wrong for wanting to at least try.”</p>
<p>“I forgave her.”  It’s quiet, but it tears at his throat like he’s swallowed glass.  The rest of him doesn’t feel much better.  “I forgave her for <em>everything</em>.  And it still wasn’t enough.  I wasn’t enough.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s eyes burn and the way his head swims starts feeling less pleasant and more sickening.  He squeezes his eyes shut.  His next exhale is shakier than he would like.  </p>
<p>“Eddie…”</p>
<p>“And she <em>died</em>, Lena.  She died and—I’m—who stays mad at a dead person?  What does that make me?”</p>
<p>“Human.”  Lena gets an arm behind his shoulders and forces him to sit up.  He shudders when she hugs him, but she hangs on tighter and he drops his head to her shoulder and breathes.   “It makes you human.”   </p>
<p>“I can’t—” Eddie chokes out and Lena hushes him gently, her fingers sliding into his hair the way he might do with Christopher.  And he cracks, the softness too much to handle when he’s tried so hard for so long to be strong and in control and have everything together.  He cracks like there’s a faultline running through his chest, tremors ravaging him as he feels everything at once.  He cracks and he cries and the world around him keeps turning.  </p>
<p>In the morning, he wakes up on Lena’s couch with a wicked hangover that he feels like may have as much to do with the emotional release of the night before as it does the alcohol he consumed.  He groans quietly at the pounding headache piercing behind his eyes and rubs his hands over his face.</p>
<p>“If you’re gonna throw up, please try to make it to the bathroom,” Lena calls from the kitchen where the smell of bacon is already filtering out into the living room.  Eddie’s stomach rolls, but he swallows hard and takes a few deep breaths and it settles.</p>
<p>“I’m good,” he calls back before pushing himself up gingerly.  He pads into the kitchen and leans heavily against the countertop.  “Um…thanks.  For—”</p>
<p>
  <em>Letting me have an emotional breakdown?</em>
</p>
<p>Lena glances over at him from the stove.    </p>
<p>“You don’t have to thank me for that,” she says.  “Your wife died, Eddie.  Your son lost his mother.  You don’t have to have it all together right now.  Nobody expects you to—certainly not me.  I told you at the beginning of the year that we had your back.  I meant it.”</p>
<p>Eddie looks away, telling himself that his eyes are blurring because of the hangover.  </p>
<p>“And, hey—” Lena turns down the heat and sets aside the tongs she was using to focus fully on him.  “—you know I don’t get sappy that often, so I may only say this once, but…you are enough, Eddie.  You’re a good man and an amazing father and just because Shannon left doesn’t mean that someone else won’t see those things and want to stay.  You’re enough.”</p>
<p>“I—” Eddie has absolutely no idea what to say to that, the sentiment hitting at something that’s still too raw to truly tease apart.  He goes for levity instead.  “Shame I can’t just date you.”</p>
<p>Lena very graciously doesn’t call him on it and just laughs instead.  “You wouldn’t be able to handle me even if I was into men,” she teases.  “But I’m a great wing-woman whenever you decide you’re ready to try again.  I know it’ll be awhile but…offer stands.”</p>
<p>The subject shifts into less fraught territory then and although Eddie knows he still has a lot to unpack within himself and that he’ll have to navigate helping Christopher through Shannon’s loss as well, by the time he leaves around noon he feels…lighter.  Not perfect, not anywhere close.  But like he’s set down a heavy pack that he’d forgotten he was even carrying.  Like he can breathe a little easier.  </p>
<p>The second year in LA is almost boring by comparison.  There’s a tsunami—that certainly turns everything upside down—but Christopher is safe at abuela’s the whole time so really all that ends up happening is that Eddie has a little free-climbing Ferris wheel adventure for a few hours and then proceeds to spend the next several weeks following being loaned out to the 118.  By the time he and Lena return to the 136, everything is back to normal.  </p>
<p>Normal.  Normal calls, normal shifts, normal life.  The world spins on.  </p>
<p>Eddie doesn’t date.  Doesn’t really know how he would start going about it even if wanted to.  And he doesn’t.  Want to.  Mostly anyway.  </p>
<p>He has Christopher and Christopher needs him and that’s enough.  Most of the time—almost all the time—that’s enough.  And the times when that isn’t, well.  They pass.  </p>
<p>He’s fine. </p>
<p>And then, Eddie meets Evan Buckley.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which there is a first meeting.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The request for volunteers to man the LAFD’s wildfire strike team comes in the week before Christopher is supposed to leave for summer camp.  Eddie thinks about his bank account, thinks about the cushion that would build up on two weeks of overtime and hazard pay, thinks about the fact that Christopher is going to be gone anyway—</p><p>—and Eddie really doesn’t think that he can say no.  Is it dangerous?  Sure.  But they could get called into a five-alarm apartment or hotel fire on any given shift.  He’s not that worried about it.  So, he signs up.  He figures he’ll spend two weeks with a crew of relative strangers roughing it and working his ass off.  The last thing he expects is—</p><p>“Hey.  It’s Diaz, right? From the 136?  I’m Evan Buckley—Buck—118.”</p><p>—blond hair and blue eyes and a thousand-watt smile that makes his pulse skip.</p><p>They’re in the back of a truck with four other guys and Eddie hopes that Buck will assume that’s the reason for his delay in responding.  Really, it’s the fact that he’s about swallowed his tongue.  It’s ridiculous—he works with firefighters, and while certainly there are more people who fit the stereotype than not, there are reasons why the stereotype exists, and regardless he normally isn’t thrown off by attractive people—but he’s distracted by the blue of Buck’s eyes.  </p><p>He’s also slightly confused at first, because he’s worked with the 118 before and he can’t remember—it hits him abruptly.  Oh.  Right.  He’s an idiot. </p><p>No, he knows who Evan Buckley is.</p><p>“I—yeah, that’s me,” he says.  “Buckley—from the truck bombing a little while back?”</p><p>He swears internally when Buck’s bright blue eyes dim, that smile slipping briefly before he fixes it.  Sure, Eddie—just bring up a major trauma for the guy without thinking, that’s a great idea.  But thankfully, Buck doesn’t seem to hold it against him.</p><p>“Yeah,” Buck acknowledges.  “All fixed up now though.”</p><p>Eddie clears his throat and searches for a less fraught conversation topic.</p><p>“You’ve got a great team over there—Hen, Chim, Bobby.  I got to spend some time with them back in the fall, wow, they really know their stuff.  You know, I almost ended up at the 118 myself after the academy—we could have been coworkers.”</p><p>“I know,” Buck replies.  “It came up after you were a big damn hero during the tsunami—free-climbing Ferris wheels your specialty?”</p><p>“Nah, just something I like to do for fun,” Eddie shoots back, grinning when Buck laughs.  </p><p>“Well…”  Buck bites his lip and gives Eddie a once-over that makes him blink and flush.  “I suppose if it takes fighting some wildfires for us to finally meet, it will have been worth it.”  </p><p>Eddie looks away, rubbing at his neck again.  He gets flirted with a fair amount on calls, but rarely does he actually want to be.  But, it’s been over a year since Shannon died and for the first time, he almost—well, he’s…intrigued. </p><p>“Yeah, well, see how you feel after we’ve spent fourteen days together and are tired and cranky.”</p><p>Buck grins wider.  “Somehow I don’t think that’ll change anything, but sure, we’ll see.”</p><p>Eddie changes the subject again, feeling like he needs time to dissect the whole conversation later in order to stop being quite so overwhelmed.</p><p>“So, how is everyone?  I haven’t heard from them since Lena and I went back to our team.”</p><p>“Well—” Buck launches into a story about a train derailment that Eddie vaguely recalls seeing on the news a few weeks earlier and they spend the next several hours trading tales back and forth.   By the time the truck stops, Eddie still isn’t sure how to feel about the flirting, or at least about whether he wants to flirt back, but he’s certainly more comfortable about the prospect of the coming weeks.</p><p>He likes Buck.  That much he does know.  He seems like a good person and Eddie likes to think he’s a pretty good judge of character.  And more importantly, Eddie trusts Buck to have his back.  </p><p>So…there’s that. </p><p>They’re given their instructions by the strike team captain pretty much as soon as they set their packs down.  Their base camp is a makeshift setup of tents and generators, trucks and heavy equipment—it reminds Eddie of being back in the army.  Thankfully, they get a few hours before they have to head out again, to suit up and climb back into the trucks and drive to the thick of it, and Eddie takes the opportunity to grab some rest, climbing into his bunk while the others seem to decide to take the opportunity to explore the camp.  </p><p>But, he doesn’t try to sleep at first.  He tries for a couple minutes, but his mind keeps straying to seeing Christopher off on the bus that morning, to whether Christopher is settling in at camp, if he’s homesick, if he’s having fun, making friends—</p><p>Eddie digs his phone out of his pack and turns it on—there’s no service, which he expected, but he opens up his photo albums and flicks through pictures of Chris from his birthday, from his first successful sleepover, the one Carla took of both of them when Eddie went to Christopher’s school for show-and-tell.  He stares for a while, feeling an ache in his chest, knowing that there’s no reason why he should feel bad about not being at home given that he probably would have been doing the same thing on his own couch if he’d been at home.  But he still— </p><p>“You know, if you’re waiting for that to ring, I think you’ll be waiting for awhile.  Pretty sure I haven’t had service since we were at least twenty miles out from here.”</p><p>Eddie looks up from his phone screen as Buck drops down onto the bunk across the tent.</p><p>“I—uh—yeah, no, I don’t have service out here either,” he acknowledges.  “I was actually just…looking at some pictures.”</p><p>He winces the moment it leaves his mouth, the potential dirty implications of that hitting his ears too late, but blessedly Buck doesn’t jump on the obvious, just flashing him a smile.</p><p>“Partner?  Pets?”  Buck asks.  </p><p>Eddie glances back at the screen and thumbs over it so it’ll return to full brightness.</p><p>“Neither,” he replies.  “No partner, no pets, um…I was looking at some pictures of my son actually.”</p><p>“You have a kid?”  If anything, Buck’s smile only gets wider.  “I love kids.  Can I see?”</p><p>Eddie blinks once.  He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised—maybe just because Buck was flirting earlier and Eddie usually plays the <em>I have a kid</em> card when he wants people to stop because it almost always puts them off—but Buck seems genuinely interested.  Maybe that’s why Eddie passes the phone over before he can think too hard about it.  </p><p>“He’s adorable,” Buck says.  “How old?”</p><p>“Nine.  And a half.  The <em>half</em> is very important,” Eddie replies with a small laugh. </p><p>“Oh, absolutely.”  Buck’s eyes are twinkling in the low light of the tent.  “So, what’s he up to while you’re out here?  He with his mom, or—?”</p><p>Eddie clears his throat.  “Um—”</p><p>“Sorry—if that’s nosy—”</p><p>“No, it’s fine,” Eddie assures.  “His mom died last year.  He’s actually away at summer camp right now—just left this morning.”  </p><p>He thinks for a moment that Buck’s going to apologize, give the standard condolences that Eddie wasn’t really that comfortable responding to even right after it happened and has only gotten less the more time has passed, but Buck doesn’t.  Instead, he just says—</p><p>“Well, that sounds fun.  He excited?”</p><p>“Oh yeah.  Christopher—that’s his name—hasn’t talked about anything else for, I swear it’s been at least six weeks.  He’s never been away from home for that long, but he couldn’t wait.  He’s just a fearless, adventurous kid.”</p><p>Buck hums and Eddie glances back over to see Buck studying him carefully.</p><p>“What?” Eddie asks.</p><p>“You’re one of <em>those</em> parents, aren’t you?”  Buck teases.  “Did you have to come out here for two weeks so you wouldn’t be tempted to call the camp every day to check in?”</p><p>Eddie’s surprised into a spluttering laugh—he reaches out and shoves at Buck’s shoulder, light, playful, and takes his phone back when he withdraws.  </p><p>“That wasn’t a no,” Buck laughs, and Eddie bites his lip on a grin as the sound of it thrums through him, warming him from the inside out.    </p><p>“God, you’re as bad as my team,” he replies.  “For the record, it wouldn’t have been <em>every</em> day.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s a relief.  Just a <em>little</em> bit of a helicopter dad then.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, well I—” Honesty trips off Eddie’s tongue before he can stop it, his laughter dimming into something more serious—he blames the earnest openness of Buck’s face and the way he looks at him.  “—I wasn’t around when he was younger.  Army—I missed a lot, you know?  And then I was back and his mom left…and then she finally came back but then died—he’s only nine, but he’s been through so much.  It’s hard sometimes to not be…overprotective.”    </p><p>“Makes sense to me,” Buck says quietly.  There’s still a smile on his lips, but he looks more serious as well.  Softer.</p><p>Eddie thinks he likes it as much as the dazzling brightness of his earlier grins.</p><p>“I mean, my parents weren’t exactly what I’d call warm and fuzzy,” Buck adds.  “And from what it looked like in those pictures, he loves you a hell of a lot, so I’d guess you’re doing something right.”</p><p>Eddie ducks his head.  He doesn’t—okay, so maybe he has a hard time accepting being told that he’s a good dad.  Lena’s been trying to break him of his habit of just shrugging comments like that off, and his abuela has been trying to do the same, but it’s hard not to listen to the voice in the back of his head that says he’s not good enough, that he’s a fuckup.  </p><p>“I try,” he admits.  “I try every day.  Because he deserves it.”  </p><p>“Lucky kid.”</p><p>Eddie shakes his head.  “I’m the lucky one.”</p><p>A couple of other guys wander into the tent and take bunks closer to the front.  Buck glances over to them, then back to Eddie, rubbing at the back of his neck.</p><p>“Suppose we should all try to get some sleep, I guess.  But, um—thank you.  For sharing.”</p><p>“Yeah—I—of course,” Eddie replies.  He powers down his phone and packs it away again.  “Sleep well, Buck.”</p><p>“You too.”</p>
<hr/><p>Buck’s first thought after finally meeting Eddie Diaz?  <em>Oh no, he’s hot.</em>  Obviously, Eddie had already been hot—Buck remembers the calendar.  But the Eddie that posed for that calendar was thinner, leaner—it’s not that he had vanity muscles, because Buck would guess they were more than adequate, it’s just that the Eddie that Buck finally meets has probably at least an extra thirty pounds of muscle, shoulders that make Buck’s mouth go dry, and just looks…solid.  Like he could pin Buck against a wall and actually hold him there.</p><p>But then Eddie actually opens his mouth and the thought switches to—<em>Oh no, he’s nice.</em>  Nice.  And funny, with a dry, sharp humor that catches Buck by surprise.</p><p>And then, later, Buck comes into the tent and finds Eddie looking at pictures of his son and it’s—</p><p>
  <em>Oh no, he’s good.</em>
</p><p>Because Buck hasn’t even known Eddie for half a day and yet, the look on his face when he talks about his son, the sound of his voice—when Buck sees a picture himself, his heart pangs at the little boy, at the way he and Eddie are smiling at each other, radiating love even just through a photo.  </p><p>Eddie’s <em>good</em>.  Good and soft and lovely and Buck is…in trouble.  </p><p>It’s been just under a month since the train derailment.  Just under a month since Abby walked back into his life, happy and engaged, and then walked out again.  Was it closure that he got?  He’s not really sure.  But he does know that he can feel himself tripping and falling head over heels in slow-motion, in a way that he really hasn’t felt since his first phone call with her.  In a way he hasn’t <em>wanted</em> to feel again.</p><p>Yeah.  He’s in big fucking trouble.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” Eddie says at dinner on the second day as he sits down next to Buck.  They worked all day, grueling, crushing hours in the heat and the smoke trying to increase containment—Buck’s still covered in sweat and ash, having chosen food over washing off in their makeshift, temporary showers, and he doesn’t think Eddie is much better—and the picnic table creaks as Buck shifts over to give Eddie more room.  “What about you?”</p>
<p>Buck pauses with a sandwich halfway to his mouth.  “What about me?”</p>
<p>Eddie shrugs.  “I mean, you got to hear about me last night and I already know your coworkers so…I don’t know, I figured…”</p>
<p>Buck grins.  “Well, I’m an open book.  What do you want to know?”</p>
<p>“I told you about Christopher…I guess…who do you have back at home?  Pet?  Partner?”  Eddie echoes his own words from the night before.  There’s a hint of red in his face that could be a blush or could be a sunburn and Buck doesn’t want to push too much so he bites back the obvious quip about how if Eddie wanted to know if he was single he could have just asked.</p>
<p>“No pet, no partner,” Buck replies.  “Just the team.  And my sister.”</p>
<p>“Is that—she’s dating Chim, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Good memory.  Yeah.”</p>
<p>They both lapse into silence for a bit as they eat and it’s comfortable.  There’s a casual bustle around them, the rest of the strike team coming around to grab dinner as well, others heading out to the main worksite to pick up where they all left off.  Buck gets distracted for a moment watching the trucks pack up and drive off again and doesn’t realize Eddie’s said something until he hears his name.</p>
<p>“…Buck?”</p>
<p>“Hmm?  Sorry, what?”</p>
<p>Eddie’s lips curve up.  “I was just asking what made you want to come out here.  It’s not exactly a glamorous vacation.”</p>
<p>Buck blinks, caught off guard.  Nobody really asked him that when he signed up.  Sure, Bobby had looked at him for a long moment when he’d come in with the paperwork, but even when Buck had thought Bobby might say something, he’d just ultimately nodded and agreed to approve it.  And it’s—not an unfair question.  Admittedly, he hadn’t really known what to expect, what he was getting into.  He had been thinking that, well, he’s handled apartment fires, earthquakes, the train derailment, burning cars, mudslides—how bad could a wildfire really be?  But even without that, even if he hadn’t realized quite how bad it would be, it’s still a little strange he supposes.  Most people, even other firefighters, aren’t necessarily leaping at the chance to do this work.  Most people have a reason.</p>
<p>He could hedge.  Make it about the money or about wanting to be part of something bigger than himself, neither of which would be lies exactly, just…half-truths.  But Eddie is watching him and technically there’s nothing to lose from being honest—not the way there might be with Maddie or Hen or Chim or Bobby, all of whom may well have looked at him with sympathy that he doesn’t want if he had bothered to explain himself.  So Buck wets his lips, glances up at the sky, the sunset clouded by smoky haze, and responds to the question with a question.</p>
<p>“Have you ever felt like you just needed to get away?  To just…pack up and go somewhere away from everything else, away from the rest of your life, to find a few minutes to figure things out for yourself?”</p>
<p>Eddie nods.  “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Buck gestures absently.  “Yeah…that’s what I’m doing here.”</p>
<p>“You know, most people would take a vacation.”</p>
<p>“You have to plan those though, and I just needed…space, I guess.  As soon as possible.  This was convenient.”  </p>
<p>Eddie’s shoulder brushes against Buck’s as he reaches past him to grab his empty plate and stack it with his own.  His face is thoughtful, his eyes understanding when they meet Buck’s again.</p>
<p>“So…what are you running away from?”</p>
<p>Buck blows out a breath, rubs at the back of his neck, manages a smile.</p>
<p>“You know, this is starting to feel like a third date kind of conversation,” he says.  Flirting comes easily even if he knows it’s a transparent deflection.  “You should at least buy a guy dinner before you start asking about his tragic backstory.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t know what he wants exactly, if he wants Eddie to blush and be thrown off or to call him out or something else entirely.  </p>
<p>Eddie raises an eyebrow, but seems relatively unfazed.  </p>
<p>“Well, that might be a little difficult out here, but I think I heard something about s’mores later if you want one of those,” he replies.  </p>
<p>It startles Buck into a laugh.  </p>
<p>“You don’t have to tell me, though,” Eddie adds.  “If it’s too personal, I get it.”</p>
<p>“It’s not that, it’s—well, okay, maybe a little,” Buck admits.  “But it’s mostly that I haven’t really talked about it, you know?  Back at home I felt a little bit like everyone was waiting for me to fall apart—maybe that was me projecting, I don’t know, but that’s how I felt.”</p>
<p>“What happened?”</p>
<p>Buck shrugs.  “Not to be stereotypical but…a woman.  We met three years ago—she was older, had a lot of personal stuff going on at the time—but I thought she was amazing.  It was the first real relationship I ever had, she was the first person I ever really loved, I thought—hell, I thought I was done, that she was it for me.”</p>
<p>“She left?”  Eddie asks.  Buck nods, thinking back to an airport and a kiss goodbye, to his hands on her hips and the echo of <em>I’ll wait for you</em> in his ears.</p>
<p>“Her mom died,” he explains.  “I understood why she needed to get away, but I thought it was temporary.  I thought she was coming back—for <em>months</em> I waited while everyone around me realized that I’d been dumped and were all too nice to just say it.  Finally, I stopped waiting, but I haven’t really been with anyone else since her.  I’ve felt a little…stuck, I suppose.”</p>
<p>He swallows, his mind flashing back to the train, to feeling the world slow as he saw Abby again, to the way he stopped breathing when she shouted <em>I need to find my fiancé</em> because he had somehow never expected that the next time he saw her she would have moved on.  </p>
<p>“I saw her again a few weeks ago for the first time in two years.  She’s engaged.  I saved her fiancé’s life on a call.”</p>
<p>“Well, shit,” Eddie says quietly.  Buck’s mouth quirks.  </p>
<p>“We met up after that and she sort of apologized for how things ended with us but also sort of didn’t?  She said something about how she didn’t feel like she could come back because she thought she would lose herself or be dragged down or something like that and I—it’s hard not to take it personally, is all.  So I guess I came out here to get some perspective about what’s next.  Because now more than ever it really is finally over.”</p>
<p>There’s a bitterness on Buck’s tongue that he doesn’t like when he mentions their last meeting, when he thinks about sitting on a park bench and wanting to demand to know what else he could have done, why he wasn’t enough when he gave and gave and gave of himself to be everything she needed—</p>
<p>“You know, I mentioned that my wife died,” Eddie says and Buck looks over as it brings him back to the moment.  “She was in a car accident.  But, uh, the day before she asked me for a divorce.  I had thought that we were making things work, that we were doing better, that we were starting to move past the problems we’d had before and were really going to be a family again, and the way she looked at me…I’ve never felt so stupid in my whole life.  It’s not exactly the same, but—I get it.” </p>
<p>Eddie’s hand rests on the table and it takes very little for Buck to shift and allow his own to brush against it.  There’s a quiet simmering heat in his stomach, spreading warmth through the rest of him—Buck thinks maybe he should feel bad, raw, like it’s too much, like he’s being too vulnerable.  But Eddie turned around and matched him instead of turning away, instead of leaving him hanging out on a limb alone and that’s—</p>
<p>—that’s kind of amazing.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Buck replies.  “I, uh—thanks.”  He bites his cheek.  “Guess I’m not the only one with a tragic backstory, huh.”</p>
<p>Eddie looks like he’s biting back a smile.  “And to think, you didn’t even have to buy me dinner first.”</p>
<p><em>I would</em>, Buck thinks.  <em>I would love to.</em></p>
<p>“Well, I think someone mentioned there might be s’mores,” he teases lightly as their hands brush again.  “If you wanted.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s eyes flick down to their hands and then back to Buck.  “You know, I just might.”</p>
<p>And perhaps, maybe, Buck thinks things might be looking up.  Maybe <em>what’s next</em> is right in front of him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It is maybe pure luck that they get through the first week without any major injuries.  They’re all exhausted, but with shifts working around the clock and an assist from whatever weather gods decide to not kick up forecasted winds to make their lives worse, they manage to get the fire a solid seventy percent contained.  But of course, that luck can’t last forever.   </p>
<p>Buck hears the crack and sees the dead, charred treetop start to fall a split second before anyone else does. </p>
<p>“Eddie!” </p>
<p>Eddie looks over before he glances up.  Buck sees his eyes widen briefly when he realizes—then he’s diving out of the way and the whole mess is crashing down and there’s a whole cloud of smoke and dirt in the air and—</p>
<p>—and Buck can’t see Eddie anymore.</p>
<p>“Eddie!” He shouts again.</p>
<p>“Diaz!”  Their field captain.  “Diaz—can you respond?”</p>
<p>The radio crackles with feedback and Buck drops his hose, nearly tripping as he runs over.  The closer he gets, the more he’s able to see a hazy outline moving through the smoke, and he’s flooded with relief when he hears a series of rough coughs.</p>
<p>“Eddie—”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Eddie calls back, followed by another round of coughing.  The dust settles enough for Buck to see more clearly—Eddie’s leaning heavily against another tree, a trickle of blood making its way down his cheek.  </p>
<p>“You okay?”  Buck reaches Eddie and wraps an arm around his waist to take some of his weight.  Eddie hisses, his eyes closing briefly as he tosses his arm over Buck’s shoulder and the two of them slowly start moving away from the wreckage.</p>
<p>“I think so,” Eddie replies.  “I didn’t land great, pretty sure I’ll have some bruises, but I don’t think I broke anything.”</p>
<p>“You’re bleeding,” Buck points out.</p>
<p>“Branch scratched my face.  It doesn’t—” Eddie coughs again, once, twice, and clears his throat roughly.  “—it doesn’t feel deep.” </p>
<p>“Medical will be the judge of that,” their captain says as he comes into earshot in time to catch that statement.  “Buckley, can you take him back to camp?”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir, of course,” Buck agrees readily.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Eddie sighs when Buck helps him into the passenger side of the ranger vehicle.  </p>
<p>Buck glances over, swallowing hard as he slides into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.  “You sure you’re okay?”</p>
<p>Eddie makes a face and it splits the cut on his cheek enough to send another thin line of blood trickling down.  </p>
<p>“Ribs are sore,” he admits.  “The coughing doesn’t help.”</p>
<p>“We’ll get you checked out and on some oxygen,” Buck assures.  “That should help.”</p>
<p>“I feel like an idiot.  Should have noticed that tree was fragile.  It’s not like half this area hasn’t been charred to hell and weakened even more by getting hosed down.”</p>
<p>“Shit happens.”  Buck forces himself to pay attention to the non-road path the vehicles have carved out over the past several days.  “It could have been any of us.” </p>
<p>“Sorry for dragging you away from the shift.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it,” Buck replies.  “I don’t mind.  I’d rather be here.”</p>
<p>He feels the weight of Eddie’s eyes on him, notices when Eddie opens his mouth only to close it.  They’re quiet for the rest of the drive back.</p>
<p>Technically, Buck knows he could, and probably should, return to the site after dropping Eddie off.  But instead, he hands the keys of the truck off to two ringers from the previous day’s shift and ends up pacing in circles outside the medical tent.  It’s stupid—they’re all at risk every shift, out here and back home with his usual team—Buck knows that and it’s not the first time he’s watched someone else get hurt, but he’s still—</p>
<p>“You’re still here.”  </p>
<p>Buck freezes and looks up.  Eddie has a clean shirt on, and his face is clean as well, a butterfly bandage across the now closed cut.  </p>
<p>“I—yeah.  I wanted to make sure you were really fine.”</p>
<p>Eddie nods.  “They gave me some oxygen and painkillers.  Said I might have bruised my ribs, but also might just be sore.  Didn’t seem like anything was broken though.”</p>
<p>“That’s good.”</p>
<p>“I should have said before…thank you.”</p>
<p>Buck had been planning to say something else, but the words fly out of his head at that, his brain glitching for a moment.</p>
<p>“I—what?”</p>
<p>“Buck…” Eddie takes several steps to close the distance between them.  They’re obscured from the rest of the camp by the tent configuration and the trees, and Buck is all too aware of that when Eddie reaches out and grabs his hand.  “You noticed before I did.  You called my name.  Things could have been a lot worse if it hadn’t been for you.  So, yeah—thank you.”</p>
<p>Buck reaches up with his free hand, stopping, unsure, before touching Eddie’s face.  </p>
<p>“I thought I distracted you.  Made it worse.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t.”</p>
<p>Buck’s mouth feels too dry.  He’s caught between relief and worry, between believing Eddie and also wanting to see for himself that he’s okay—he wants—</p>
<p>He wants.</p>
<p>“I’m okay,” Eddie says quietly, his thumb brushing across Buck’s knuckles.  Buck finally allows himself to touch, his hand cupping Eddie’s cheek, careful not to disturb the bandage.  His breath catches as his thumb accidentally brushes the edge of Eddie’s mouth.  </p>
<p>“Prove it.”  The words trip off his tongue before he can pull them back.</p>
<p>But Eddie doesn’t pull away, doesn’t drop Buck’s hand or shove him back.  Instead, Eddie pauses for only the merest fraction of a second before tugging Buck even closer and kissing him.  </p>
<p>And Buck melts.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which we return to a kiss.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the first night, Eddie makes rules.  Rules to remind himself that he joined the strike team to fight wildfires and make some extra money, not to spend two weeks tripping over his own tongue and failing at flirting with a hot guy.  Rules that say he can get to know Buck, be friendly with him, but he’s not going to fall for the guy. </p>
<p>Admittedly, the rules are a work in progress because the second night at dinner Eddie sits down trying to get to know him and—well.  </p>
<p>Buck says <em>I’ve felt stuck</em> and <em>I came out here to get some perspective</em>, and Eddie’s chest twists because he gets it.  Gets what it feels like to have someone walk away and still feel tied to them, to be stuck waiting with no word, no clarity, no closure.  Buck waited months for his ex to come back before accepting it was over—Eddie waited years for Shannon despite the fact that Lena was right to point out that anyone else would have filed for divorce, was trapped again after she died with no answers, no explanations.</p>
<p>Stuck.  He’s been feeling the same wreckage that flickers across Buck’s face for a year.  Maybe that’s why he can’t quite stop himself from opening up, tossing his own past onto the table so Buck doesn’t feel like he’s hanging out on a limb alone.  </p>
<p>Maybe that’s why he can’t quite stop himself from flirting back.  From reaching out later that night to wipe a smear of chocolate away from the corner of Buck’s mouth, his skin lighting up when Buck’s eyes go dark.  From spending the next several days trading random facts about himself for random facts about Buck, their lives, their pasts—</p>
<p>Maybe that’s why the rules go out the window.  At least a little.  They shift from <em>just be his friend</em> to <em>a little flirting is harmless</em> but he’s still not planning on letting it be more than that.  He has Christopher back at home and Buck is still figuring himself out—Eddie can’t just forget about that and fall into something even if Buck wanted to…and he doesn’t know what Buck wants.  Because Buck seems like he flirts as easy as breathing, is free with his smiles and casual touches, and Eddie—Eddie has never done anything casual in his life.</p>
<p>So.  The plan is to keep some distance.  To not cross the line from friendship and flirtation to more.  </p>
<p>And then part of a tree falls on Eddie and Buck shouts his name through the smoke, helps to carry him out of it when he’s choking on ash, his ribs aching fiercely.  Then Eddie walks out of the medical tent to see Buck pacing behind it, still there, worry written all over his face.  Then Eddie says <em>I’m okay</em> and Buck touches his face, gaze dropping to his lips, and says <em>prove it</em> and Eddie—</p>
<p>He hasn’t kissed anyone in over a year.  Hasn’t kissed anyone other than Shannon in ten.  And it’s been a long time as well since anyone has looked at him the way Buck is, with that mix of desire and genuine concern, since anyone has <em>touched</em> him like Buck is.</p>
<p>He can’t help himself.  </p>
<p>Buck makes a quiet, desperate noise against his mouth and it just makes Eddie want to kiss him more, to get closer, to touch.  He takes a few steps and presses Buck up against a tree, his hands finding their way inside Buck’s turnout coat as Buck gets his fingers in Eddie’s hair.  </p>
<p>“God, Eddie—”</p>
<p>Eddie nips at Buck’s lower lip, which makes Buck jerk, his hips grinding against Eddie’s thigh where it slots between his.  Buck is a mess of sweat and ash, but Eddie doesn’t care, doesn’t mind that it’s smearing across his own skin—his tongue slides against Buck’s and he shudders, every part of him going hot and liquid, needy.  He feels branded everywhere Buck’s hands touch, it’s been so fucking long—     </p>
<p>Buck swears, his head falling back against the tree as Eddie presses his mouth to his jaw, his neck.  His tongue flicks over Buck’s pulse point before he drags his teeth across the skin, feeling the vibration when Buck whines.  God, he wants so much he’s dizzy with it, shoves his hands beneath Buck’s undershirt to get at least a little skin-to-skin contact as they rock together, unconsciously seeking out friction.  </p>
<p>Buck drags Eddie’s mouth back to his, licking inside filthily, and then Eddie’s the one groaning into the kiss.  He wants to keep going—his mind offers up the image of Buck underneath him, all the solid muscle that Eddie can feel under his hands bared for his eyes, his mouth, and he grinds against Buck’s hip, hard and aching in his pants—but then—</p>
<p>—Buck’s hands make their way under his shirt, sliding up his sides, and Eddie hisses in pain.  </p>
<p>“Fuck—sorry,” Buck pants, yanking his hands back.  “Sorry, I didn’t—”</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Eddie assures, stealing another kiss even as he reluctantly withdraws his own hands as well.  It was enough of a reminder that they’re technically in public to make him want to stop, although he has to take several breaths to will himself to let go and step back.  “I—you’re really good at that.”</p>
<p>He flushes immediately, but Buck just laughs quietly and ducks his head looking quite pleased with himself.</p>
<p>“You’re not so bad yourself.”</p>
<p>Eddie curls his fingers into his palms to prevent himself from reaching out again.  A few steps removed from the heat of the moment before, uncertainty creeps in.  He feels—fuck, like a teenager with a crush.  Like despite the fact that they just very thoroughly made out, he still needs to pass Buck a note reading <em>do you like me, check yes or no</em>.  </p>
<p>Which maybe makes sense, seeing how the last time he had a crush, he <em>was</em> a teenager.  But that doesn’t mean it’s any easier now.</p>
<p>“I, um—” He clears his throat.  His face feels like it’s on fire.  “I haven’t—I mean, I don’t usually—I’m a little out of practice.”</p>
<p>Buck bites back a smile, leaning back against the tree and glancing up at him from under his lashes.</p>
<p>“Did you miss the part a few days ago where I said I haven’t really been with anyone for two years?” He replies.  “I’m a little out of practice too.”</p>
<p><em>So, what does that mean?</em> Eddie wants to ask.  <em>What do you want?</em></p>
<p>But…he swallows it back.  In part because he doesn’t know what <em>he</em> wants.  If they were in LA, he would be able to stop and think, to hide until he had either thought the issue to death and come to a conclusion or left it so long that it wasn’t an issue anymore.  He has no space here.  He’s around Buck all the time.  There’s nowhere to hide.</p>
<p>For once though, Eddie thinks maybe he shouldn’t overthink it.  They’re <em>not</em> in LA.  What happens out here doesn’t necessarily have to follow them back to the city.</p>
<p>Right?</p>
<p>“You know…technically I’m supposed to be resting,” Eddie says.  “If you’re not going back to the site…maybe you could sit with me?”</p>
<p>Buck catches his hand and squeezes it once before letting it drop.  </p>
<p>“I’d like that.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s heart skips.  “Okay.  Let’s go.”</p>
<p>There are other people around, a couple of guys from the other shifts napping in the main living tents, so <em>you could sit with me</em> really does mean sit and not anything less innocent.   But if Buck had wanted anything else, he doesn’t act like it—he sits on the end of the bed, Eddie’s legs in his lap, and curls his fingers around Eddie’s ankle as he launches into telling a story about a yoga class of pregnant women all going into labor on the full moon, and it’s easy and soft and Eddie aches in an entirely different way.   </p>
<p>He drifts off at some point and when he wakes up again, the sun is setting.  Buck is nowhere to be found.  </p>
<p>Eddie sits up and stretches, wincing at the soreness in his ribs.  Yeah, that’s going to be a pain in the ass to heal, nothing for it but <em>taking it easy</em>, which isn’t something he’s ever been very good at.  He’s just swinging his legs over the side of the bed when Buck walks back into the tent, damp and clean from a shower and out of uniform.  Eddie allows himself a moment to get distracted by the way Buck’s t-shirt stretches tight across his shoulders, by the color of his lips, far less red now that they’re no longer kiss-flushed and slick.  Eddie wets his own unconsciously.</p>
<p>Desire is a funny thing.  Because Eddie is used to being alone, used to not being touched with any real sense of intention—he was deployed and then Shannon was gone and then gone again—he’s learned to live with the absence, with the longing that cuts every so often in the lonely hours.  But Buck kissed him, and now he can’t look away. </p>
<p>Buck laughs.  Eddie’s gaze flashes up guiltily—caught—but Buck’s eyes are dark and amused.  Blessedly, he doesn’t tease.</p>
<p>“I was going to wake you up so you didn’t miss dinner,” Buck acknowledges instead. </p>
<p>“Nice of you.”</p>
<p>“Well, I’m a nice guy.”  He flashes a smile and Eddie’s gut twists.  Eddie draws his lower lip between his teeth as his mind flickers back to earlier, Buck tipping his head back eagerly to give him more access, melting into him.  His hands itch to touch him again.</p>
<p><em>Yeah, I bet you could be</em>, he thinks absently.  </p>
<p>Eddie gets up a little more gingerly than usual and clears his throat, getting them back on track.  </p>
<p>“I’m starving so—good timing.”</p>
<p>If his hand brushes Buck’s waist as he walks past, neither of them mention it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The thing is, Eddie’s not great at words.  Or feelings, frankly, which he’s struggled with ever since he was a kid and learned that he was expected to shove them down and out of sight, to be less <em>sensitive</em>, to be more…well, the more was never as clear.  It was the <em>less</em> that mattered most.  <em>Be less, feel less, talk less</em> as he cut himself into smaller and smaller pieces to fit whatever mold he was supposed to on any given day—man, son, husband, soldier—</p>
<p>Father.</p>
<p>He’s gotten better at that one.  Because he works at it.  Because Christopher deserves it.  But he’s not sure how good he is at the rest.   </p>
<p>And words are difficult even when the feelings are clear.</p>
<p>So maybe that’s why he doesn’t say anything.  He has dinner with Buck, he sits out another shift the next day to take painkillers and rest while Buck goes off with the rest of the squad—and then he goes back to work and everything goes back to the way it was.  Friends.  Friends who flirt.  Or at least, friends who flirt, but with an extra tension that wasn’t there before, like they’re teetering on the edge of a cliff and one solid <em>dare me</em> or <em>I’m serious</em> would send them tumbling over it.  </p>
<p>Eddie could almost forget that he knows the taste of Buck’s mouth, his skin, could almost write it off as some hazy fever dream.  Except that there’s a mark on Buck’s neck, high enough that his collar doesn’t hide it, and Eddie can’t stop his eyes from wandering to it, can’t stop himself from remembering, can’t stop wanting.  </p>
<p>Of course, Buck doesn’t say anything either.  They sit together, neither of them rocking the boat, and Eddie has no way of knowing whether the reason for that is that Buck is waiting for him or if Buck’s realized that he doesn’t want to do it again.</p>
<p>Words are difficult.  There are some on the tip of his tongue—words like <em>I don’t know what I want except that I can’t stop thinking about kissing you again</em> and <em>I don’t do this</em> and <em>that scares the hell out of me</em>—but he fumbles them every time he tries to get them out.  </p>
<p>Still, time is ticking down and Eddie feels the weight of that with each day that passes, the urgency to do <em>something</em>, to say <em>anything</em>, because if nothing else, for all of his earlier thinking that this thing between them doesn’t have to follow them home, the thought of never seeing Buck again when they leave is…unacceptable.  </p>
<p>Actions.  Actions are a little easier than words.</p>
<p>“What’s this?”  Buck asks when Eddie drops the scrap of paper in his lap on their final night.  The two of them are sitting outside in the dark, propped against a tree.  Under normal circumstances, Eddie thinks they would have a great view of the stars, but the clouds and smoky haze obscure the night sky.</p>
<p>Still, Eddie tips his head back and stares up anyway when Buck asks, like if he tries hard enough he can pretend he’s cataloguing the Big Dipper instead of wishing for the earth to open up and swallow him.</p>
<p>“It’s….a phone number.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh.”  Eddie can feel Buck’s eyes on him.  “Is it yours?”</p>
<p>There’s a lilt of amusement in his voice, a gentle tease, and some of Eddie’s anxiety slides away.</p>
<p>“It might be.”</p>
<p>“I see.”  </p>
<p>Eddie watches from his periphery as Buck shifts, sliding the paper into his pocket.  Silence falls for a moment.  Buck clears his throat.</p>
<p>“You know, we never talked about…”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Eddie.”  Something in Buck’s voice makes him finally look over.  Buck’s eyes flick down to his mouth, then back up to his—whatever he sees must be encouraging enough because then he’s leaning in and—</p>
<p>Their second kiss is nothing like the first.  There’s no edge to it, no desperation, no overwhelming rush of passion—although Eddie feels overwhelmed nonetheless, for other reasons.  It’s soft.  A question.  </p>
<p>Eddie leans into it.  An answer.</p>
<p>“I have a kid,” he says quietly when Buck pulls away.  “And absolutely no clue what I’m doing.  But I know I can’t fuck around…so…”</p>
<p>“So…have dinner with me,” Buck offers.  “Dinner at an actual restaurant where we can wear regular clothes and not be covered in ash the whole time.  It doesn’t have to be a big thing—I can do slow, we don’t even have to call it a date if that’s too much, I just—I don’t want to let go of this.  Whatever this is.”</p>
<p>Eddie swallows hard and looks down at Buck’s hands—he reaches out and threads their fingers together.</p>
<p>“We can call it a date,” he replies.  “We don’t have to go quite that slow.”</p>
<p>Buck lifts their hands to his lips.  And even in the dark, his smile is radiant.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>An ending.  And a beginning.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It should be an easy thing.  </p>
<p>Buck says <em>have dinner with me</em> and Eddie says <em>we can call it a date</em> and it should be easy to go home and make that happen.</p>
<p>Except, Christopher comes down with a summer cold that he must have picked up at the tail end of camp, and then Eddie gets it, and then Buck ends up getting scheduled for overnights for about two weeks straight because someone else on the 118 is out for some reason or another and they’re working completely opposite shifts—</p>
<p>It is…frustrating.  Phones make it a little easier—Eddie finds himself reaching for his most nights after putting Chris to bed, scrolling back through their text conversations, sometimes hitting the call button and talking until he’s muffling yawns and trying to keep his eyes open.  So it’s hardly that he isn’t <em>talking</em> to Buck.  Eddie just hasn’t <em>seen</em> him since they were dropped off in the parking lot at city hall and Buck pressed him against the door of his truck, breathing <em>one for the road</em> against his mouth before kissing him so thoroughly that Eddie is still thinking about it nearly a month later.    </p>
<p>The distance is unhelpful.  It gives Eddie too much time to think, to second-guess himself, to stoke the spark of anxiety in his chest into something exponentially bigger and more distracting.  What does he really know about dating anyway?  He hasn’t done it in an age, has certainly never done it while being a parent.  </p>
<p>He hasn’t had sex in almost as long either.  Even with Shannon, it was infrequent after they were married, either because he was gone or because they were fighting, and while it was good when they did have it, while he knew he was good at it…well.  He’s never slept with another guy.  He’s never really thought about it.  </p>
<p>And now, he can’t seem to <em>stop</em> thinking about it.  Can’t stop thinking about Buck’s body against his, under his hands.  Thinks just as much about being under Buck and wonders whether he might enjoy that too.</p>
<p>There have been nights on the phone where their conversations have strayed onto the borders of dangerous territory, Buck’s voice dropping low, the words Eddie might say to push them over the line sticking in his throat, stayed by nerves.  </p>
<p>
  <em>What do you like?  What do you want?  Tell me?</em>
</p>
<p>He wonders how Buck would touch him if they had the time to really explore that.  He wonders if he’s ever going to figure out how to ask.  </p>
<p>But.  None of that matters if they can’t actually see each other.  Eddie is just about resigned to calling Buck and saying <em>hey, nevermind, maybe we shouldn’t after all</em> when he shows up at the station for his shift after a late night, gets out of his truck—</p>
<p>—and stops.  </p>
<p>Because Buck is right there.  Leaning against the wall by the open garage, two large coffee cups in his hands.  He grins when he catches Eddie’s eyes and Eddie flushes.  </p>
<p>“Hey, stranger,” he calls. “Long time no see.”</p>
<p>“One of those for me?” Eddie asks as he crosses the parking lot.</p>
<p>“Maybe.  Depends.”</p>
<p>“On?”</p>
<p>Buck catches his lower lip between his teeth and looks Eddie up and down.  “On…whether you say I can take you out tonight.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p>
<p>“I—”</p>
<p>“Christopher has a sleepover, right?”  Buck asks.  “And…your shift ends at a decent time, at least that’s what I thought you said on the phone last night…or am I wrong?”</p>
<p>“You’re not wrong,” Eddie admits.  He looks at Buck, looks at the coffee in his hand.  The anxiety dims to normal butterflies.  Why did he want to call this off?  “Did you bring me coffee because I was talking to you until 1AM?”</p>
<p>“Well…I figured if it was my fault you wouldn’t be well-rested…” Buck holds one of the cups out, his eyes twinkling.</p>
<p>Eddie reaches out and takes it.  “I don’t have anything nice with me that I could wear,” he says.  It’s not a no.  Buck’s smile widens.  </p>
<p>“I don’t care what you wear,” he assures.  “We’ll do something totally casual.  I just…”  He looks away, and takes a sip from his own coffee—it’s not quite enough to hide the way his cheeks go pink before he looks back.  “I want to see you.  I want to take you out.  Please?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Well…he did say please…</em>
</p>
<p>Eddie steps in before he can talk himself out of it and steals a kiss.  Buck’s breath catches, then he presses into it, chasing Eddie’s mouth.  He tastes like caramel and chocolate and only very faintly of coffee underneath—Eddie nearly laughs, grateful that his own cup is just black—and it might have continued longer if not for the wolf-whistle that splits the air. </p>
<p>“Hey, Diaz—you coming inside, or?” Lena calls as she makes her own way across the parking lot.  Eddie glances at his watch and swears.  Buck laughs quietly.</p>
<p>“So, was that a yes?”  Buck asks.</p>
<p>“Yes,” Eddie replies as he steps back.  “Yes, we can go out tonight.  I should be done at six.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be here.”  </p>
<p>He steals one last kiss before he forces himself to pull away and walk into the station, steeling himself for the teasing that inevitably awaits him.  He doesn’t have to wait long.</p>
<p>“Something you want to share with the class, Eddie?” Lena asks when he walks into the locker room.  “I’m a little hurt—I thought I was supposed to be your wingwoman.  And I come into work to find you making out with some—was that Evan Buckley?”</p>
<p>Eddie’s face flames and he goes to his locker to buy time, stripping off his t-shirt and pulling out his uniform.  </p>
<p>“It was,” he admits.  “We, uh—we met on the strike team a few weeks ago.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh.  So that’s why you’ve been so cagey about that trip.  I thought you were just trying to avoid telling me you got hurt,” she says.</p>
<p>He shrugs on the uniform shirt and starts doing up the snaps.  “You heard about that too?”</p>
<p>She shrugs.  “Captains talk.  You seemed fine so I wasn’t going to say anything about it.  But I am far more interested in how you ended up with a boyfriend—good for you, by the way, he’s pretty.”</p>
<p>Eddie laughs.  “He’s not my boyfriend.  We haven’t even been on a date yet.”</p>
<p>“Diaz, I’m surprised at you,” Lena teases.  “You kiss people you’re not dating like that?  Damn.  You think you know someone…”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well,” Eddie rubs at the back of his neck and looks over at her, his mouth turning up in a shy smile.  “I like him.  I…really like him.”</p>
<p>Her teasing grin softens into something more serious.  She reaches out, squeezes his shoulder.  </p>
<p>“I’m happy for you,” she says.  “You deserve someone who makes you smile like that.  Someone who looks at you the way I saw him doing earlier.  So…I won’t give you that much shit for keeping it to yourself.  But I reserve the right, as your friend, to tell him I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you.  Okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good with that,” Eddie agrees.  She hip checks him as she walks past. </p>
<p>“Happy is a good look on you,” she adds over her shoulder.  “I’m glad to see it.”</p>
<p>Eddie thinks about Buck’s smile and the taste of his lips—his face warms again, but he doesn’t mind.  He smiles.  </p>
<p>“Yeah.  Me too.”</p>
<p>The shift passes without incident.  What calls they do get are all relatively minor, as if the universe is trying to be sure to get him out of the station on time.  Whatever the reason, Eddie isn’t going to complain about it.  At the end of it, he showers quickly before changing back into his street clothes—if he’s going to be in jeans and a t-shirt, he’s at least going to be clean—and when he finally gets the rest of his things together, he sees Buck once more standing by the open garage, this time talking quietly with Lena.</p>
<p>They glance over and see him—Lena flashes him a smile before clapping Buck on the shoulder and heading out.</p>
<p>“Should I ask?”  Eddie says when he reaches the door.</p>
<p>Buck grins.  “Nah.  She just cares about you is all—I can take it.  It’s sweet.  You ready?”</p>
<p>“If you are.”</p>
<p>“I was thinking we could try that burger place over by station four.  Unless you’re in the mood for something else?”</p>
<p>Eddie shakes his head.  He doesn’t point out that he really doesn’t care about what they eat—it’s the person he wants to spend time with.  </p>
<p>“That sounds good.”</p>
<p>It takes Eddie about ten minutes into being seated, the two of them stumbling through the most stilted conversation they’ve ever had for Eddie to realize that Buck is nervous.  His foot is tapping under the table and his hands are gesturing wildly as he tells a story about his week that he seems to have forgotten he’s already shared—rather than send Eddie spiraling down into thoughts of <em>of course this is terrible</em> and <em>this was never going to work</em>, there’s something strangely comforting in it.  If Buck’s nervous, it’s because he wants this to go well, just like Eddie does.  </p>
<p>Buck notices him staring and cuts himself off.  “Is something wrong?”</p>
<p>Eddie shakes his head.  “No, I was just—” He huffs a laugh.  “I was just thinking that I’m really glad we’re finally doing this.”</p>
<p>Buck smiles, his shoulders relaxing.  “Yeah?  I—yeah.  So am I.”</p>
<p>After, Buck kisses him in the parking lot.  It’s soft, like the one the night before they came back to LA.  Eddie thinks he probably intends it to be quick as well, but Eddie tugs him back in for one that’s deeper, wanting to linger.</p>
<p>Buck’s throat works when he pulls away.  Eddie watches the movement as he swallows.  </p>
<p>“That was nice,” Buck says quietly.  “I mean—dinner, not—although that’s also nice—”</p>
<p>It’s the part of the night where they’re supposed to say goodbye, Eddie knows that.  The <em>I had a great time, let’s do it again</em> before they each head home alone.  But…he wants.  And he thinks maybe…maybe he can ask.  Maybe it’s okay to want something.</p>
<p>“Come home with me,” he says, and Buck stops.  Wets his lips.</p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p><hr/>
<p>There are a lot of things that Buck doesn’t expect after getting back to LA.  He doesn’t expect to find out that his sister is pregnant.  He doesn’t expect to end up with his work schedule in a total upheaval.  He doesn’t expect that finding a time to actually take Eddie on a date will be so damn difficult.</p>
<p>But even more than any of those things, he definitely doesn’t expect Eddie to invite him over at the end of their first date.  </p>
<p>He promised slow, assumed that was what Eddie would want, assumed that <em>I have a kid</em> and <em>I can’t fuck around</em> meant that sex would be off the table, and he was fine with that.  So, he’s definitely readjusting those expectations when Eddie pulls him into a dark house and kisses him like he wants to be consumed.  </p>
<p>But, god, Buck is definitely not going to complain.  The two of them stumble into a wall and Buck presses Eddie up against it, rucking his shirt up until he can pull it off.  They finally have space, have time to linger and explore rather than snatching frantic, furtive moments, and Buck takes full advantage.  He slides his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and drags his hands over the thick planes of muscle that make up Eddie’s torso, mapping him, trying to find out which places make Eddie shiver.  </p>
<p>“Buck—”  Eddie’s head falls back against the wall when Buck presses kisses to his jaw, his neck, dips his tongue into the divot between Eddie’s collarbones—</p>
<p>“What do you need?” Buck asks, the question muffled against skin.  His hands flex around Eddie’s hips and Eddie inhales sharply.  Honestly, Buck doesn’t think there’s anything Eddie could say in response that he wouldn’t be willing to give.  It’s been a long time for himself, but he knows it’s been longer for Eddie, and Buck has at least done this before.  He doesn’t mind slowing down or getting on his knees or even being fucked, his skin buzzing with the need to just be close, to be touched, to make someone feel good.</p>
<p>But he still ends up readjusting his expectations again when Eddie bites his lip and looks away, considering, only to look back at him and say—</p>
<p>“Would you fuck me?”</p>
<p>Buck’s grip flexes again unconsciously and Eddie makes a small sound, his eyes slipping closed again.</p>
<p>“You sure?”  Buck asks.</p>
<p>Eddie nods.  “I want—I want to know what it’s like?  If that’s…”</p>
<p>A flicker of uncertainty passes over his face and Buck kisses him to make it go away.</p>
<p>“Come on,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips and tugs him down the hall.</p>
<p>In his bedroom, Eddie strips off his jeans while Buck tugs off his own shirt and pants.  He pulls a condom and a bottle of lube out of the nightstand, but Buck pulls him back to kiss him again, ignoring that for the moment.  He wants—he wants to take his time, wants to make it good, wants <em>Eddie</em> to feel good, and he knows he can do that.  </p>
<p>They fall back on the bed and Buck does nothing but kiss Eddie, deep and slow and lazy, like they have all the time in the world.  Eddie slides his hands down Buck’s back, squeezes Buck’s ass—when Buck nips at his lip, he gasps and arches up, rocking their hips together, seeking friction.  Buck moves lower, kisses down, down, down—</p>
<p>“Fuck.”  Eddie swears as Buck teases his tongue along the waistband of Eddie’s boxers before tugging them down.  Buck laughs softly, pleased at the response, then glances up to watch Eddie’s face as he takes his cock in hand and sucks him down.</p>
<p>It’s been long enough that Buck has to be careful of his gag reflex, but what he can take seems to be more than enough as far as Eddie’s reactions are concerned.  Buck flushes, heat sparking in his blood as Eddie’s fingers twist in the sheets, as he murmurs swears and praises in equal measure.  </p>
<p>“I want—Buck—god, I—” Buck pulls off and reaches for the lube bottle, squeezing the base of Eddie’s cock with his free hand.  </p>
<p>“You wanted me to fuck you, right?” He asks.  Eddie nods, his eyes dark and half-lidded.  “Don’t worry, I will.”</p>
<p>
  <em>I’ll give you whatever you need.</em>
</p>
<p>Buck clicks open the cap of the bottle and slicks his fingers up, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s hip as he circles Eddie’s rim with one finger.  Eddie exhales shakily and Buck glances up to find him watching.</p>
<p>“Relax,” Buck says quietly.  “It’s gonna be weird at first but—I promise it gets better.”</p>
<p>Eddie huffs a laugh and some of the tension eases out of him.  Buck doesn’t try to rush anything, happy to tease around the rim as he lavishes attention on Eddie’s hips and lower abs with his mouth.  But eventually, he does slowly work a finger inside and Eddie swears again.</p>
<p>“<em>God</em>.”  </p>
<p>Buck leaves it at one, twisting his finger in and out slowly until Eddie’s rocking his hips back into it.</p>
<p>“Can you—can you add another?” Eddie asks, and Buck obliges, sliding two fingers into him, scissoring them and stretching him open.  When Eddie seems adjusted, he curls them, seeking that spot— </p>
<p>“Holy shit.”</p>
<p>Buck grins.  “Told you.  It gets a lot better.”</p>
<p>“Are you—” Eddie shivers and fucks back against his hand.  “Can you—I think I’m good, I want—”</p>
<p>Buck adds a third finger just to be careful with it.  But after another moment, he slides his fingers out and pushes his underwear down, rolling the condom on and slicking his cock before moving back up Eddie’s body to kiss him again.  </p>
<p>He’s achingly hard—they both are—and Eddie releases the sheets in favor of getting his hands back on Buck’s skin.</p>
<p>“Please,” Eddie breathes, and Buck is helpless to do anything but give him whatever he wants.   </p>
<p>It doesn’t last long—it’s been too long for that.  Buck has to stop and breathe for several long moments after sliding inside as much for himself as to give Eddie time to adjust to it.  He drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder and kisses his neck until Eddie starts rocking against him, silently urging him to move, and Buck gladly acquiesces.  He gets a hand in between them to stroke Eddie’s cock in time with his thrusts, and it doesn’t take much before Eddie is spilling into his hand and Buck is following right after. </p>
<p>Buck rolls off of him to catch his breath.  Eddie curls into him anyway, pressing as close as he can get until Buck slings an arm across his waist and pulls him closer.</p>
<p>He means to ask if he should stay, or if Eddie doesn’t want that—he’s certainly not going to assume—but he closes his eyes against the feeling of Eddie tracing the script of his tattoo, and when he opens them again—</p>
<p>“Morning,” Eddie rasps, his voice still rough with sleep.  Light is spilling through the edges of the curtains—Buck sits up and rubs at his eyes.</p>
<p>“Morning.”</p>
<p>He feels like he should say something else, but Eddie kisses him then and any lingering nerves about whether he was right to stay disappear.  </p>
<p>Eddie hums when he pulls back, an easy smile on his lips.</p>
<p>“If we have breakfast this morning, does that count as a second date?” He asks.</p>
<p>Buck laughs.  “I think it would, yeah.”</p>
<p>Eddie’s smile widens.  “In that case…do you want breakfast?  Fair warning, I might burn it.”</p>
<p>Buck kisses him again.  “Good thing I can cook then.”</p>
<p>They slide out of bed then.  And they have breakfast, laughing and making a small mess of Eddie’s kitchen.</p>
<p>As Eddie kisses him again in thanks for clearing the plates after everything is said and done, Buck’s heart skips.  It feels good.  Right.  As if with Eddie in this place is where he should be. </p>
<p>And nothing hurts.  </p>
<p>He smiles.  </p>
<p>It feels like a beginning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you all so much for reading!  I have vague ideas for some other things in this universe, so I may elect to expand this later into a series, but for now it's complete!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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